


Useless

by mafreila



Category: TsukiPro the Animation
Genre: Angst, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Self-Harm, Suicide, dark themes lads pls be careful. read with caution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 18:23:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17330132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mafreila/pseuds/mafreila
Summary: “Could you stop being so useless for once?”It took Mamoru a while to offer his usual sheepish giggle, clapping his palms together and bowing his head. “Sorry! Forgive me!”And they all laugh--just as usual. But words cut deep, and Mamoru could feel them eating away at him, because he knew deep down that he really, truly, was useless.





	Useless

**Author's Note:**

> please!!! please proceed with caution!!! this fic contains mamoru struggling with thoughts of killing himself and harming himself. if this kind of stuff triggers you i urge you to turn back, or at least if you do read, don't force yourself to continue if it gets rough. these themes are very dark.

“Could you stop being so useless for once?”

 

Ryouta sighs in his usual condescending tone that he took towards Mamoru as he stares down at the broken shards of glass scattered all about the floor. Kouki had begun sweeping them up silently, and the dark-haired NEET watched as the sunlight bounced off of them when they moved, almost like a show, a display of rainbow lights glittering on the ground. It took him a while to offer his usual sheepish laugh, clapping his palms together and bowing his head. “Sorry! Forgive me!” 

 

And they all giggle--just as usual. 

 

So why, then, if nothing is different, does Mamoru feel a twisting sensation deep in his stomach, like someone has shoved a knife into his gut and rotated it? Why does he feel the urge to keel over and vomit, to… to… 

 

Honestly, he doesn’t know what he’s doing before he can stop himself. He bends down to scoop up one of the bigger shards of glass from the ground, though Kouki instantly exclaims in shock, “Mamoru! Don’t touch that, you’re going to cut yourself!” 

 

Ignoring their leader’s warning, Mamoru rises back up to examine the piece he held between trembling fingers. Make an excuse, he begs himself, knowing that the way Kouki stared at him with those pale blue eyes filled with concern was too much for him to handle anymore. “O-Oh! Sorry, these pieces were just so pretty! I think I’ve got good inspiration for a song, so I had to take one!” 

 

Kouki smiles in relief at the reveal that Mamoru was just being his normal, silly self. “I see. Be more careful next time, you should have picked it up with a towel to prevent yourself from getting injured. Broken glass is sharp, you know?” 

 

Mamoru nods a bit too forcefully. “Mhm! I know, sorry! Just wasn’t thinking.”

 

_ When  _ **_are_ ** _ you? _

 

He can practically hear Ryouta’s voice echo in his head, and he’s surprised when he doesn’t hear those same words spoken aloud. He feels a chill when he glances over and sees Ryouta staring at him, analyzing him thoughtfully. The light blond was always good at noticing the small details, the things people were hiding. 

 

He wants to escape this gaze burning a hole through him, trying to read these thoughts swimming through his head.

 

“....oru.” 

 

He wants to escape, he wants to escape, he wants to escape, he wants to--

 

“Mamoru! Hey, you listening? Earth to Mamoru!”

 

Kensuke waves a hand over his face and he nearly jumps out of his skin. “H-Huh? Were you talking to me?” 

 

“If you’d  _ listen _ , you’d know Kouki was asking you what kind of song this was inspiring.” Ryouta crosses his arms over his chest, rolling his eyes in annoyance. He doesn’t look back at Mamoru anymore after that, which makes the older male exhale in relief, shoulders drooping slightly.

 

“I’m just so inspired I can already feel myself leaving this earth! But it’s a secret for now! I have to go get started on this…!”

 

Mamoru turns and hurries to his room without waiting for a response. Of course, it was a lie; he hadn’t had an idea for a song in over two weeks now, and with the next Tsukipro live deadline approaching fast, he knew he was screwed.

 

So instead of settling at his piano bench, he collapsed onto his bed with a heavy sigh, holding the piece of glass he’d snatched up and holding it up to the light. It shone brightly, scattering its colors around the room. Wasn’t that how his songs were supposed to be? What they were supposed to do for the people listening?

 

But now there wasn’t anything.

 

The melodies playing in the back of his mind had long stopped, leaving it a silent and scary place to be. Part of him wishes to be back with the other members, to having something to keep his mind off of how terrifying it was, but he knows he doesn’t deserve that much. Not when he can’t even write a simple song.

 

He feels something on his face, and when he brings his fingers to examine he realizes that he’s crying.

 

“Huh…?”

 

The tears are dripping hot and wet down his cheeks and he can’t stop them. He doesn’t understand. Dropping the shard of glass to the side, he brings both his hands to his face, desperately trying to wipe the evidence away. Why was he crying? Why couldn’t he get a grip on himself?

 

It felt like it was never going to end. He had to clasp a hand over his mouth to muffle the sobs that had started jumping out of his throat uncontrollably, feeling his body shaking with every one. 

 

Mamoru glances at the shard of glass through teary eyes, and for a moment he goes quiet. Thoughts start swarming his head, reminding him of the real reason he’d grabbed that piece off the floor so suddenly, so desperately.

 

_ You deserve to feel pain. You’re useless.  _

 

Useless…

 

Just as Ryouta had said.

 

He really couldn’t stop being useless for one moment in his life. He’d just been trying to help with dinner, but he couldn’t even manage grabbing some plates out of the cupboard without one clattering to the ground and shattering into pieces. Ryouta had yelled at him that all he was doing was causing trouble for Kouki, who was working so diligently for the three of them. 

 

“I’m useless,” he murmurs out loud, taking the glass piece into his hand once again. “I’m so useless. I’m sorry.” He’s sobbing once again, but his mind has gone blank, he can’t even bring himself to stop them, to make them quieter. With a violently shaking hand, Mamoru brings the sharpest tip of the shard to his skin. His wrist was flawless, completely void of any sort of deformity. But all he could imagine was them covered in gaping cuts, all he could think was that he had to make them look disgusting, horrid to look at. Maybe even tear his skin so bad he couldn’t play piano anymore, because he was just that useless.

 

He presses the glass down, trying to push it as hard against his skin as he could, before he mentally prepares himself to swipe it down his wrist, swallowing a hard lump in his throat. It was all he could do to keep the shard there; he was scared, really. There wasn’t any going back from something like this. But he deserved it. He had to do this, because he was just so--

 

“Useless...”

 

The voice that speaks isn’t his own, and he makes a startled noise as he drops the shard and turns quickly, trying to act natural. He feels his heart sink to his stomach when he sees Ryouta leaning against the door frame. “Aren’t you supposed to be writing a song? How’s that going?” With the disapproving tone, Mamoru can tell he wasn’t asking out of genuine concern, but rather being sarcastic. “I-I thought I’d come up with lyrics, first! Yeah, that’s right! You can’t have a good melody without lyrics!”

 

“So your inspiration comes from slitting your wrists with broken glass?”

 

Mamoru’s heart sinks for a second time, this time he can feel the pain in his chest as it does so; it was as if his lungs were being ripped apart, and he forgot how to breathe for a long moment. Of  _ course  _ Ryouta had seen. He hadn’t been quick enough, he couldn’t hide it well enough. He thinks how he should have locked the door, should have been more careful,  _ dammit _ , he’s so--

 

“Useless… what are we going to do with you?” 

 

“I know I’m useless,” Mamoru laughs, “you’ve said it enough times already. Don’t you get bored? Do you like torturing me? Actually, don’t answer that,” he grimaces, already knowing the answer to his own question. Ryouta practically thrived off of bullying the NEET.

 

Suddenly, Ryouta is walking over towards him, and Mamoru flinches for impact thinking the other is  _ seriously  _ about to hit him, but then those small, frail hands are holding his shoulders. They’re shaking. 

 

“Do you seriously think that you’re useless?”

 

The question was soft. Mamoru feels his eyebrows furrow in pure confusion, he could have sworn Ryouta’s voice was trembling just like those fingers curled against him. “It’s a  _ joke _ , Mamoru. What’s wrong with you?”

 

Tears. Tears are splashing onto Mamoru’s face, and this time they’re not his own. “R-Ryou…?” 

 

“Do you really not understand how much you mean to us? To… To me?” 

 

Mamoru tries to back up, but Ryouta moves closer, wrapping the dark-haired man in a hug. He quivers against Mamoru’s body, sniffling loudly. “ **_Say something_ ** , dammit, you useless…!” 

 

Despite the desperate pleas, Mamoru can’t even get a single word out; it’s like he’s choking on every word he tries to force out of his mouth. 

 

“I’m sorry,” is all he can manage after a long moment of simply listening to Ryouta’s heavy sobs as he buried his face into the crook of Mamoru’s neck. He’s not even sure what he’s sorry for, because at this point there’s so much he’s sorry for, he can’t even sit down and list it all. 

 

“Please don’t go,” Ryouta whispers, barely loud enough for Mamoru to hear. “Please don’t leave. Please. Nobody gives a damn if you take three weeks to come up with an unsatisfactory song, or if you can’t even write a song at all, or… or…!” He clutches tightly at Mamoru’s shirt, trying to get closer, as if he’s convinced the older boy will just vanish into thin air if he doesn’t hold on tight enough. 

 

“I-I get it… I get it already, so please…” Mamoru awkwardly pats at Ryouta’s back, not entirely sure how to handle this situation. He’s never seen him cry, not once, and certainly not for Mamoru’s sake. When the sobs don’t let up, he tries again. “I’m not going anywhere… I won’t.”

 

“You’d better not!” 

 

Kensuke’s voice suddenly pipes up, and Mamoru glances over to see him and Kouki walking over. “We heard Ryouta yelling, so we wanted to make sure everything was okay... What’s going on?” Kouki murmurs with worry filling his voice. The sound of it brings pain to Mamoru, he hates worrying Kouki, he hates making him fret over someone as useless…

 

“...Am I useless?” 

 

Mamoru asks aloud, his voice breaking a little. Kouki looks almost as if his heart shattered in that moment, and the pianist regrets having said anything, wishes he could take it all back just to never see that face again in his life. 

 

“Why… Why would you think such a thing? Mamoru… if it wasn’t for you, we would have given up on our dreams. Your songs gave us hope, paved a path for us when there was none to take. You’re the savior of Growth.”

 

“But… But I… I can’t even do anything right, I don’t… I don’t understand, you guys shouldn’t--”

 

“Shut up!” Ryouta yells, slamming his fist weakly against Mamoru’s chest. “Stop  _ saying  _ stuff like that, please! You’re so stupid!” 

 

Mamoru frowns, falling silent. But Ryouta continues, despite his expectations.

 

“You might be shitty at almost everything, but at least you try! And you write amazing songs, you know!? It’s like Kou said… you… we wouldn’t even  **_be here_ ** without you! Just take one look around yourself and realize how much you matter, I’m begging you!”

 

“Ryou… I…” he isn’t even sure how to respond. Those words of his hit him like a ton of bricks, made him almost feel like throwing up in that very moment. “You don’t have to say anything. Just please… d-don’t…. don’t hurt yourself… don’t ….”

 

There’s a long pause, and again Mamoru is left to wonder if Ryouta is going to continue.

 

“...Please, for the love of God, don’t kill yourself. Don’t take your life. That’s the only one you have, and we can’t… do anything without you here. Don’t do this to us.”

 

Kouki makes a choked noise, only just having realized with Ryouta’s words what Mamoru had been planning on doing; both Kensuke and Kouki hadn’t gotten there soon enough to understand the severity of the situation. “Mamoru…?!” Kouki makes that face again, that expression twisted with pain, fear, worry... if Mamoru could punch himself, he would. 

 

“What were you thinking?!” Kensuke scolds angrily, and Mamoru sees tears welling in his eyes. 

 

He’s not sure how to answer. What  _ was  _ he thinking? He supposed after hearing Ryouta talk badly about him so many times, he’d begun developing that sort of mindset towards himself. His own consciousness became like a mini-Ryouta, attacking him with every chance it got, beating him up over the tiniest mistakes. He’d felt powerless. **_Useless._ **

 

“I’m sorry,” he offers quietly, bowing his head. Ryouta continues holding tightly onto him, not wanting to let him go, and the other two members of Growth sigh and move forward to join the hug. “Tell us when you’re suffering,” Kouki pleads as he wraps his arms around the two idols, and Kensuke makes a noise of agreement. 

 

“We’re all here for you. All four of us make Growth; no more, no less. You’re just as important as we are, and you’re … most definitely not useless.”

 

Mamoru wants so badly to counter, to say that he is useless, that he’s the most useless out of all of them and he can’t contribute anything. But he doesn’t want to keep fighting. He’s losing the will to battle against their affection, the warmth of their arms holding him close and secure. 

 

“Thanks, guys,” he whispers, drawing in a long, quivering breath. “I’ll… be okay. I won’t leave you guys. So don’t worry anymore.”

 

Ryouta sniffles again, moving his arm to wipe at his eyes, which were blotched red by now. Mamoru was shocked; if the mood were right, he would have commented how awful he looked, but even an airhead as big as him could realize it wasn’t the right time to make that kind of joke. Ryouta had opened up to him. Maybe not by choice, or…  _ maybe so _ . He could have walked away when he saw Mamoru in his room, staring so intently at that shard of glass pressed to his wrist, making it clear of his intentions. He could have kept up the charade of not caring any less what happened to the NEET. 

 

But he didn’t. He chose to save him. To remind him of the people around him who cared, who loved him and appreciated the effort he put into Growth. That was something he wished that he never would forget, but…

 

“We’ll always be here to remind you how important you are. So please, never suffer alone like this again.”

 

Mamoru smiles at Kouki’s words, and, for the first time in several days, it wasn’t forced. He could feel the warmth radiating through him, fluttering in his chest like a thousand little butterflies.

 

“...Thank you. I’ll be in your care.”

**Author's Note:**

> this was written as a vent fic so i really apologize for the dark themes and im sorry mamoru i love u and you dont deserve to feel pain. but i am sure he struggles a lot with this kind of thoughts, especially due to the star sail drama cd. he doesn't feel as if he's good enough for growth... and i think that's very hard on him. 
> 
> anyways just been feeling like pure shite mate had to get it out somwhere and (throws mamoru in the garbage can) here we go 
> 
> but hey this was originally supposed to not have a happy ending so im sure its. hopefully good if that changed during it
> 
> thank you for reading, and hey, seriously; reach out to those who love you, there are plenty around you if you look<3


End file.
